


Avalanche

by uebermensch



Series: Like-Spike Standalones [1]
Category: Selfie (TV)
Genre: 1x12, AMWF, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: S01E12 Psyche (Stick in the Mud), F/M, Friends to Lovers, Griffith Park, HEURT, Heliza, Henry-Eliza Unresolved Romantic Tension, Los Angeles, Male-Female Friendship, Mount Hollywood, Post-Canon, Romance, Romantic Friendship, S01E12, SelfieFic, Some Humor, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2896496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uebermensch/pseuds/uebermensch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Henry and Eliza, an evening conversation in the hills overlooking Los Angeles is one they won't soon forget. Referencing events up to and including episode 1x12 (Stick in the Mud), I thought of this when I saw Henry accidentally catching Eliza's "air kiss". </p><p>COMPLETE stand-alone story; an ultimate thank-you selfie to the "Selfie", to EK, KG, and JC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avalanche

Out of the corner of his eye, the illuminated sign loomed in the distance. If he didn't know any better, the sign seemed to accuse him of intransigence.

 _That's just ridiculous. The 'Hollywood' sign can't talk, point, or accuse_ , he thought.

He'd held onto the fallacy that he could not be changed, that he'd been the one to help change her ways. He had been single-minded, obstinate, unyielding, intransigent.

But it wasn't like that any more.

Like the surrounding cool breeze, he let the mix of blame and effect wash over him.

Moist Pacific air descended from the layer above the ocean just off the California coast. Broken clouds, a few stars peeking through, and temperatures in the lower-50s rounded out the setting.

The lone man folded his arms, deeper into his cardigan, deeper into his funk.

He looked back to his car. The jacket was folded neatly, sitting on the backseat.

He welcomed the cool air. Tonight, he wanted to feel something other than numb.

This was Christmas Eve evening. Few lingered after sunset up here in the Hollywood Hills. They scurried back to friends and family, to a big roasted bird (or tofu equivalent) with stuffing, potatoes, and pie.

_There really isn't anyone else up here but me. Guess I'm the weirdo, even though I've always found peace and quiet up here._

He sat on the hood of his car, in Griffith Park on Mount Hollywood with a commanding view of Los Angeles.

A city of lights. The city of angels.

There was one firebrand of an angel in his mind.

Henry nursed his drink slowly, downing liquid from a small glass tumbler. Next to him sat a bottle of single-malt Scotch whiskey, a third of it consumed.

Nothing but the best for him, that bottle was 25-year Glenmorangie, a highlander with a little less peat and a little more sweet. A sweeter taste which reminded him of her, who underneath the veneer of a social-media darling resided a sweet, smart, sharp (when she wanted to be), stubborn, caring woman.

He's been driven to distraction the entire day. After holiday phone calls to family scattered about the country, he had sat on his couch. And sat some more until another two hours passed.

_People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones._

Stillness in his house emphasized the increasing noise in his head, reminding him of his rejection of her, accusing him of the delicious predicament into which he himself had placed.

The predicament which became very clear when he lifted his hand and caught the kiss meant for Freddie.

Henry knew he'd been pushed; his physical and mental limits had been stretched. He had been pushed into the mud, had been dragged out of the mud, and had been thrown into the fire.

_And can I mention how much I hate it when she throws my words back at me. Yes, I said challenging people come into our lives for a reason, but foolish me, I was thinking about Eliza ..._

He hadn't realized how far he'd been pushed emotionally, until they'd sat in the board room, arriving at a detente with Freddy, complete with references to "Rocky".

He had tried to disguise catching her 'air kiss' with some lame gestures of his own. He hadn't wanted to look, but he couldn't help himself. He looked up, straight into her eyes. He could feel himself falling, sinking into the chair, into nothingness.

She noticed. God dammit, she noticed.

He couldn't tell if she was surprised, disappointed, or happy. Perhaps she was shocked, or worse, mortified.

 _How did it all come to this?_ , he thought bleakly.

After Charmonique got well-deserved dues for winning and individual staff members had moved to the front of the room to congratulate her, Henry mumbled an 'excuse me,' and beat a hasty retreat: out of the room, out of the office, and out of the building.

He couldn't have possibly known her eyes followed him: out of the room, and out of the office.

They hadn't spoken to each other in days.

Stuck in the house wasn't exactly the highlight of this Christmas Eve. He couldn't call Eliza, and he certainly couldn't call Julia; he had burned - no, bombed - that bridge since karaoke night.

An important fact hung over him, spinning around in his mind. In the time he'd been advising Eliza, a miscalculation of the highest order and the most dangerous of results had occurred. He had let her in: she dug, and she dug, until she found him out.

He  _was_  afraid, but it wasn't what she thought.

He was afraid of her, of what she meant to him, of the power she already had over him.

If he gave himself fully to her, she could destroy him.

He could feel that ache again, a familiar one from the past, a callback to the days of old. To his old trio of companions: loneliness, self-loathing, and despair.

He had spent years hiding insecurity, piling on the layers, perfecting his own mask. She didn't know, she couldn't have possibly known, but it had taken her a few short weeks to begin tearing down his careful construction.

He couldn't stand it any more, that buzzing noise inside his head. He needed to escape the sudden prison of his mind. Grabbing his car keys on his way out the door (making sure everything was locked up, of course), he headed out in his car.

He thought about driving to Van Nuys, but his parents weren't around and he didn't really want to see anybody from his past.

He thought about driving to Eliza's apartment, but the thought of seeing them together twisted the knife a little deeper.

A quick decision made, he stopped in the BevMo liquor store in West Hollywood and, equipped with his purchase, raced up Mount Hollywood.

Downing smooth amber fire into his gullet, he realized he was likely breaking all sorts of laws: open container in a public space, drinking alcohol in an unlicensed area, blah blah blah ...

_Why Henry, you ... rebel, you ..._

He looked over and raised his glass to the James Dean memorial.

 _I'm a rebel with a lousy cause. A rebel halfway to getting completely shit-faced._  At least he had the decency to start drinking after arriving at Griffith Park.

 _Woop dee doo,_  he cheered inwardly.  _Woop dee the fucking doo._

He smiled cruelly to himself, poured himself another, and raised his glass to the lights below.

An hour, maybe even two, had passed.  _If I'm going to feel sorry for myself, it'll be a raging party of one, because we all know one **is**  the loneliest number._

He slowed down; he wasn't going to finish the bottle, but he was closer to drunk than not. Shit, why the hell didn't he buy any food to absorb the alcohol?

 _To hell with it,_  he thought and poured himself another drink, lifting the tumbler up to his mouth.

He stopped, sensing a disturbance in the world around him. He was downwind to the breeze, down from that scent. That floral perfume, from that achingly beautiful woman ...

And the question sprung open in his mind.

"How long have you been standing there watching me?", he asked, still facing the lights of L.A.

"Not long," the tentative but very female voice said in reply.

He set the tumbler down onto the car, closed his eyes, and breathed out slowly. He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't wanted any of it. But like forces of nature, this could not be stopped, because this moment had been a long time in coming.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to the surprise visitor. Deep now in the evening hour, they were the only two in the parking lot.

Knowing someone, becoming friends, and caring about them always meant more than the sum of those words. He had become more than accustomed to her face; he wanted and needed to see her. So tuned now he could almost sense her presence.

Dressed casually in jeans, a checkered flannel shirt, and little makeup on her face, Eliza stood, looking very uncertain. She arrived unannounced, sneaking in from behind; her car was parked a few spots over.

"Henry, I haven't seen you in days. How are you?"

That casual look, that soft open vulnerable look were big warnings, because he could easily give in to her. But it was her simple question and the way she asked which were the most dangerous of all. There was no elongation of the vowel in 'you'; there was no teasing, only simple honesty.

"Wha ... why are you here?" he asked, mentally shaking off his own admonition.

"I called you earlier, but you didn't reply." She frowned. "You always answer my calls."

"Well, maybe that's my problem; perhaps I shouldn't be the one to answer your calls." He was doing a reasonably good job sticking the knife further in all by himself.  _Why stop now?_ , he asked himself.

"Whatevs." Sometimes, he marveled at her resiliency; he guessed that'd been a tough lesson for her over the years. "I needed to ask you something."

He exhaled a long deep sigh. "Couldn't this have waited? Preferably well after Christmas?"

"No." Her one word reply was full of meaning with an extra special layer of something undefined. "Are you drunk?"

"No ... well, maybe a little. How did you find me?"

"Henry," she said, throwing back at him the same long-suffering tone he used on her. "You once told me the story about how you would come up to Griffith with your friends, and how you'd make plans to rule the world ..."

"Oh yeah ... I told you that?"

She nodded, a hint of a smile on her face.

"Guess we've been telling each other stories ... " as understanding emerged. "We really do spend a lot of time with each other, don't we?"

"Yeah," she answered, not liking where this was headed. "We totally hang out lots."

"Seriously, Eliza ... why are you here?"

She put her hands on her hips, impatient with the dumb man before her. "If you had answered my calls or even listened to the voice mails I left you, you'd know why."

"Know why, what ..." he could readily admit to himself, to feeling flustered with the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream.

She paused to collect her thoughts. "Freddy and I ... we broke up ..."

"You broke up ..."

"I just said that ..."

"You just said that ..."

"Henry!"

"Yes, dea ... er ... Eliza?"

A knowing ghost of a smile appeared. "You heard me the first time."

"Yeah, I heard you ... but ..."

"But what?"

"I don't know if I believe you."

 _Now we're getting somewhere_ , she thought. "Why don't you believe me?"

He closed his eyes. "I got tired of listening to the on-and-off thing with you and Freddy."

"So am I. So was I ... I wanted more from a relationship. I realized we weren't even friends ... like you and me."

"Well ... uh ... I always thought you could do better; you deserved better."

"Wouldn't that be a conflict of interest?

 _She was getting close,_  he thought. "Well ... we're friends, right?"

She nodded. "Of course."

He opened his eyes again. "I was ... no, I ... I am emotionally compromised."

"What do you mean?"

"I ... I admit it ... I was jealous, and I ..."

"Oooo, Henry got all jelly?" She shook her hair and batted her eyelashes, turning on her flirt and lowering her pitch to soften the tone of her words.

"Are you mocking me, fair lady?"

She smiled warmly and stepped closer to him. "Well ... just a little ... because a jelly Henry is totes adorbs ..."

"Awww, Eliza, please don't say I look ... 'totes adorbs.'"

"You did ... you do ... totes ... adorbs ..." Every word she said was accompanied by another step towards him. So close she could steal his breath ...

"Uhm, Eliza .. what are you doing?"

"Henry." There was that tone in her voice again, an edge of steel, tinged with impatience, and flavored with something he couldn't quite pin down. "Are you going to run?"

The haze began to lift. He knew this was a crossroads because she'd been the one to lead them here, dragged him here, kicking and screaming. He gazed into her eyes to prevent any confusion. "No, I'm not going to run."

"Good."

They continued ever closer into each other's orbits, and they began to play.

"That's goooood, Henry, because guess what ... hashtag the-struggle-is-real ..."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but hashtag I'm-gonna-kiss-you-now ..."

"O-M-G ... hashtag what-took-you-so-damn-long ..."

And when he pressed his mouth on hers, they both closed their eyes, letting themselves feel with each other in the moment.

She still had one niggling doubt, and dragging her mouth away for a moment, she pleaded with him. "Don't pull away from me ..."

"Not gonna happen, Eliza ..."

Another long pull of a kiss, and he parted her lips just far enough to whisper.

"... because I'm not letting you go ..."

And they drank and drank, thirsty for more, so much more.

Now, he felt drunk and unsteady. He didn't think it was the single malt. Was this what she meant when she said "the feels"?

"Yes, Henry, this is what I meant by the feels."

He hadn't realized he had voiced that thought aloud. But damn was he glad she replied.

They took another long draw from each other's mouths, drawing deeply from the well. "Eliza ... ", his face was a painted mix of joy, elation, and relief.

"Yes, Henry?" Judging by the full lips and the teeth in her big beautiful smile, he felt that perhaps for the first time in a very long while, they were both truly on the same team.

"Am I drunk on feels?"

She laughed out loud, put her arms around his neck, and steadied herself.

"Yes. And I am, too. We're def for reals, and we're drunk on feels. Hashtag Heliza." She looked at him, really looked at him, his eyes, his nose, his face, up and down his face, down to his lips. _This was what it was like to be found_ , she thought, and gravitated into his space again.

"Heliza? What's Hel ... ooohhhh ..."

To his credit, he grabbed her by the waist, just like he did months ago. But unlike that time, he didn't wait for her to back away. He looked at her face, her glowing eyes, her soft nose, her lips, and leaned right up into her airspace.

What followed were open mouths, dueling tongues, gentle bites, low groans, and quiet whispers of each other's names. Like prayers, like blessings.

 _Hashtag blessed-for-reals_ , she thought.

She found him. And thanks to her, he got game good. Real good game.

Minutes passed, and although they wanted to remain locked, they came back up again for air.

Foreheads touching; gasping for air; funny smiles; knowing looks; small pecks here and there, on the eye, the tip of the nose, chin, cheek, earlobe, neck, and secret spots, to the delight of them both ...

He put his arm around her, and she held onto him, both arms around his waist. He rested his chin on the top of her head, dipping down into her curls, finally indulging in something he'd wanted to do for a long time. He loved the feel of her hair, breathing deep, another part of her essence. He kissed the top of her head.

They looked out, two ships in the sea of lights.

It remained quiet all around, and for once, she didn't fill the empty spaces. There was more than enough between them, here and now; for themselves and for each other.

The stillness allowed him to remember, and he voiced the memory.

"Don't just hold on ... hold onto me tonight ..."

She looked at him at first in confusion. When she connected the dots, her eyes opened wide with surprise.

"You ... you ... were you hiding somewhere in the back when I sang that song?"

"No, but I saw the video, thanks to the wonders of the interwebs ..."

"Oh. What ... did you think?"

"A devastating version, and I loved it. I didn't know the song at first, so I Googled it. But knowing I caused you pain, I shed a few tears, too."

"It's okay. Someone snuck in a video of your song, too. I didn't know you had such a smooth sexy singing voice ..."

"What?! I didn't think anybody else on the staff was around, except for Saperstein and me ..."

"Apparently, everybody's karaoke performance was recorded ... "

"Saperstein!"

"Yeah, he arranged to have everyone's songs recorded."

It took Henry another moment to realize what she said.

"You think I have a nice singing voice?"

"I believe I said: smooth sexy singing voice."

He laughed at that. "We're going viral, aren't we?"

"Probably ... "

"Well then, I guess there's nothing left to do; I learned my lesson the last time."

She smiled at the memory of his silly attempts to remove the video of his birthday evening at the Blues Traveler concert.

"Hey, you know," he shifted down a gear. "I would take that evening back if I could ... I wasn't ready ... at the time ... and I didn't know how to express that to you", he continued, as he gently and slowly caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

She leaned into his touch, feeling soft knuckles against her skin, his gentle fingers, and the warm cloak of forgiveness enveloped them. "No, don't ... yeah, that was really "butt", but it's all good. We're both good. Everything had to happen then, so we could be here now."

He smiled. "Eliza, when did you become so wise?"

Her open honest face threatened to overwhelm him completely.

"Please, Henry," she recovered. "All you had to do was listen, really listen to me. And speaking of wise, you do realize that Saperstein is on our side? That he totally ships us?"

"Ships? What, is he sending us on a business trip?"

"No, silly ... I mean, even our boss thinks we belong together, in a relationSHIP, as a power couple."

"So, he's talked to you about it, too ..."

"Oohhhh yeeeah, he thinks we'd make great red-headed Koreans."

He laughed and shook his head. The breeze picked up and she began to shiver.

"You're freezing! Wait here, Eliza ...". He emptied the tumbler onto the pavement, and went back to his car with bottle and tumbler. Retrieving the jacket, he returned to her, and wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. She snuggled into him, making what he would later describe as an 'epic Eliza purr'.

"Mmmmm, loving the feel and smell of your jacket ... "

He rubbed her shoulders to increase warmth.

"You know, Eliza ...", he looked at her with new eyes, pausing for effect. "I loved seeing you in my jacket."

"Aha! Knew it!"

"Guess I have a thing about seeing you in my clothes. A little bit of me, on a whole lot of you. A whole lot of naked you ..."

"Sounds like the perfect combination." She waggled her eyebrows.

He bent forward for another kiss.  _Since when did this become so easy_ , he thought.  _How much time have I wasted?_

"Henry, stop overthinking this; I can see the steam rising from your skull."

"Eliza ... you ... you know me too well."

She smiled at that. "Yes ... yes, I do. Now, please stop talking. There's a spot on your shoulder with my name on it."

"Wha ...?" And she stepped into him again, burying her head into his shoulder, her arms wrapped tight around him.

 _OK_ , he thought.  _That is a very effective method to shut each other up: holding each other like this. I can spend hours with her like this. Hours doing more than this ..._

"You're thinking about us getting naked and having sex, aren't you?"

"Wha? Eliza ... how ... did ... you ...?"

She looked up at him. Always about the knowing and the understanding.

"Duh, you're a guy, so I know you want me. But I also know a part of you wants  **this**. And just so you know, I want you, too. I never stopped loving you. And I've waited for this, too."

"I'm thinking about how I want to be ... intimate with you." His promise generated a rosy blush and a shy giggle from her.

_One day, dear Henry, I'm gonna get you to use a word other than 'intimate' ... I wonder if I can get him to say 'let's get our freak on' ..._

"But what I was also thinking about ... was ... was .. that I ..."

"Yes ...?"

"I've loved you from the very first time you came into my office."

Did he just say it? "You lo ... ?"

He put his thumb on her lips to stop her. He looked down, and he ran his thumb across her lips, loving the soft feel against his touch. Gently pushing a stray lock of hair away from her eyes, he cradled her face, rubbing his thumbs gently against her cheeks.

"I want you to know in clear definite terms. Because there's more I want to tell you ..."

With a soft hopeful look in her big round eyes, she looked completely open to him. She nodded, waiting patiently, encouraging him to continue.

"This is how I feel about you. You're one of the bravest people I know. I think I've known, always known there was so much more beneath your facade. You are a remarkable woman, and for the longest time, I couldn't believe you would even consider or want to be with someone like me."

He exhaled, quiet but audibly. Taking another deep breath, he went on.

"You're brave, because you never gave up on me ... and despite my 'unfun' nature, you still want to be with me. And it's true, absolutely true: I wasn't having any fun until you came along. And yes, I worship you. And I adore you."

"So I want to tell you that I get it; I really get 'it' now. Because my dear Eliza ... I love you."

With that, another barrier, a big wall had come down. Tears streamed down their faces, as they held onto each other; both feeling lucky to have arrived and to have been found in time.

Something tickling the back of his mind had come forward. He wiped at his cheeks, and leaned back a little to look at her, thumbing away the wetness on her cheeks.

"Hey, Eliza."

"Mmm?"

"What did you want to ask me? From before, earlier tonight?"

She closed her eyes and tucked her head into his shoulder.

"It's a little embarrassing ..."

"Hey ... don't be ... you can ask me anything."

"Okay ...", she looked up at him. He looked down, raising his eyebrows in a non-verbal gesture for her to continue.

"After I broke up with Freddie, I was in a panic. For a moment I felt alone, and I didn't know who to call. But I settled down, and I thought of you, only you. Totes-a-ly true. I called because I had to ask you. I came because I had to find you. I wanted to ask you a second time: 'do you love me?'"

"Eliza, I'm grateful you stuck around and gave me a second chance, because I have the highest honor and the greatest pleasure in telling you again and again, that I love you."

"Never getting tired of hearing you say that. Best. Christmas. Ever ..." She dug out her phone and held it up to take a selfie.

"Eliza ..."

"What is it, Henry? Please, no lectures ..."

"No," he chuckled. "Actually, I wanted to know if there was enough light. I want us to look good."

Eliza laughed and kissed him. They held each other, with her head resting in her newly assigned spot, tucked just below his chin, on his neck against his shoulder. She reached out with her phone, activated the flash, and took the picture.

They looked down at her phone, at their first selfie as a couple. They looked at each other, satisfied grins plastered on their faces. As she put her phone away, he asked. "Aren't you going to post that on Instagram?"

"Well well, aren't you the social media expert now?"

"Hey, I'm only looking out for you ..." At her skeptical look, he explained. "No, seriously, I'm interested in the numbers you'll get for putting up a picture of us, a good-looking couple. I want a chance to like 'it' too."

"Whatevs! First of all, I already  **know**  you like it. And second, I'll have you know, I'm only posting this because of the way I feel about you ..."

"Since you badgered me into setting up a Twitter account, you realize I'll want to twitter this, too."

"Tweet, Henry; you know you want to  **tweet**  this ..."

A few quick expert keystrokes with her fingers, and the picture and a tweet about the picture were off on their merry way into the world.

"O-M-G, we look amazeballs ...,"she marveled. The sounds from his phone let them both know he'd been tagged and notified. He made no move for his phone. "Didn't you say you were going to tweet this, Henry?"

"I said I was going to tweet. But I didn't say when ..."

 _What was he waiting for?_  she wondered. She looked up at him, then she looked back down to her phone.

" ... because there's something else I'd rather be doing now."

Understanding the smolder and 'smize' beamed in her direction, her lips bent up into a grin. She switched off her phone and put it down beside them on the hood of his car. He opened his arms, and she fit into the shape and space in his arms.

 _This is where I belong_ , she thought.

"You know," he began. "Back at the mud race, you do realize I asked you whether I could get a banana from Bethany ..."

She glared at him, a look of warning.

" ... but did Freddy ask you? Noooooo ..."

"Must be because I have you whipped and wrapped around my little finger ..."

"What? I'm only pointing this out because you did right and made good with your sister. And as usual, I was right after all ..."

"Oh, don't even go there, mister ..."

"Hah! L-O-L colon-dash-capital P!"

"Wow, look at you. I'll never think of L-O-L in the same way."

"One thing I've learned from you is to give back as much as you can dish out."

"Oh yeah? What else did you learn about me?"

"Let's see ...", he tapped his finger against his chin. "The little expressions on your face, the way your brows twitch, when I do or say something stupid, stuck-up, or old-fashioned ... just ... like ... the expression on your face ... right now ..."

"HEY!"

"Yeah, who's looking 'totes adorbs' now? That's right: a town called Eliza, population you."

"Oh my god, I've created a monster ..."

"And I have you to thank. And also because I love it when you blush ..."

"I'm begging you; please shut up ... "

"OK, well how about this ...", and he bent down to capture her lips.

"Mmmmmm ... totes J/K ... but god yes, that's much better, Henry ..."

Below in the basin the lights of L.A. continued to shine. Above in the hills a couple kissed.

"Hey, Henry, tell me a story ..."

He gave her request some thought.

"I've got one. How about this: a story about how two people met, about how a lonely woman once collected friends and 'likes' to mask a lonely childhood; about a lonely man who buried himself in work and hid behind a sense of propriety; about how these two found each other ... how she isn't a 'brand' to him ... about how they will never be lonely again ..."

He could drive her crazy, he could make her sad, and he could make her soar. "How does it end?" her voice trembled.

"That's entirely up to them, and frankly, I hope the story never ends. What I can tell you is how it all began and how things developed, at least from his point of view. But he's more than willing and ready to listen and to have her side of the story, too. Would you like that?"

He surprised her in ways she never thought possible. She hoped and she'd work on having him continue to surprise her for a long time to come. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

And he started, filling unknown places with memories and experiences. She closed her eyes, letting his arms and his words breathe life to those empty spaces within, to the space which had once stretched between them, to the space now connecting them with each other.

The avalanche, the one for which both had long waited, had begun.

**Author's Note:**

> To begin, a small idea becomes something different, taking a life on its own. When two characters are well loved, trying to get them right, doing them justice, and having them really speak to each other are some of the challenges in having an idea become a scene and into a story.
> 
> Please click on the 'Kudos <3' button, and please leave a comment below. Thank you!


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